


Extra Practice

by jaradel



Series: Check Please Marching Band AU [2]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Marching Band, Fluff, M/M, Marching Band AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-11
Updated: 2017-01-11
Packaged: 2018-09-16 18:54:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9285482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaradel/pseuds/jaradel
Summary: Check Please Marching Band AU. Eric Bittle, sophomore colorguard captain of the Samwell Marching Wellies, is having trouble catching his rifle tosses. Can Drum Major Jack Zimmermann help him overcome his fear?





	

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All characters belong to [Ngozi](http://ngoziu.tumblr.com), creator of [Check Please!](http://omgcheckplease.tumblr.com)
> 
> This was a birthday gift ficlet for [tiptoe39](http://archiveofourown.org/users/tiptoe39), based on the Check Please Marching Band AU she and I brainstormed together.
> 
> Many thanks to [marswithghosts](http://archiveofourown.org/users/marswithghosts) and [annundriel](http://archiveofourown.org/users/annundriel) for looking it over!
> 
> Originally published to Tumblr on July 13, 2016.

Bitty’s still on the practice field long after the rest of the band has packed up. He’s losing light fast with the setting sun, and soon he won’t be able to see the rifle at all when he tosses it up in the air, but he’s got to nail this quad throw. He’s just GOT to.

“Bittle, what are you doing?”

Bitty jumps back, startled, as Jack appears by his side. The rifle falls to the ground, bouncing on the grass. “I - hi, Jack, I - I’m just practicing. Gotta get these quad throws down before the first game, wouldn’t do for the captain to drop a rifle now would it?” He’s babbling, always nervous around Jack, even though this is their second season marching together.

Jack’s face softens, but he doesn’t smile. “Want some help?”

Bitty’s face heats up. “Oh - no, that’s okay Jack, I’m sure you’re tired after today.”

“I can help. I want to help.”

Bitty bends down to pick up the rifle. “How - how can you help?”

“Like this.” Jack steps behind Bitty, his body almost flush with Bitty’s back, hands resting lightly on Bitty’s shoulders. “Toss it. I’ll make sure it doesn’t hit you. Just stand tall, don’t flinch.”

Bitty takes a deep breath. He settles the rifle in his hands; right hand on top of the stock, left hand under the barrel. He counts off in his head - five, six, seven, eight. On eight, he dips the barrel of the rifle down, his right hand firm on the stock, and in one swift, fluid movement, he pushes the barrel up with his left hand, sending the rifle spinning into the air. He watches it spin - one, two, three, four - and then it descends, and he can see it falling, and it looks like it’s going to hit him in the head–

“Hands, Bittle!”

Bitty sticks out his hands to catch it, feeling Jack’s hands squeeze his shoulders, keeping him from flinching, and - he catches it. His heart is beating madly in his chest, but there it is, the rifle, in his hands. It wasn’t the most graceful catch, but he’s got it. His fingers curl around it as he shudders out a sigh of relief.

Jack relaxes his grip on Bitty’s shoulders, his thumbs absently rubbing Bitty’s neck. “You’ve got great technique, Bittle. I don’t know why you’re worried about it hitting you. Your spin is high and fast, and the rifle doesn’t drift at all. You just need to trust yourself.”

“Y-yeah, okay,” Bitty says shakily. There’s something strangely comforting about the familiar way Jack’s thumbs brush against the back of his neck, and it settles his nerves a bit.

“Ready to try again?” Jack asks, his voice soft in Bitty’s ear.

“Sure.”

“Alright, let’s do it." 

The next toss is just as high, but this time, Bitty stands his ground. He can feel the reassuring weight of Jack’s hands on his shoulders, and he catches the rifle with a sure grip - right hand under the neck, left hand curling around the end of the barrel. Textbook.

Jack squeezes his shoulders, his thumbs tracing circles on Bitty’s neck. "There you go, Bittle. Perfect.”

Bitty lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Thanks, Jack. Wow. I think that’s the first time I’ve caught a quad correctly.”

“I knew you could do it,” Jack says, and something about the the low, intimate tone of his voice sends a warm shiver curling around Bitty’s spine. Oh, he’s really done for, and the season hasn’t even started. It’s not like he hasn’t thought of Jack, up on the podium, the white uniform with its burgundy accents showing off Jack’s powerful legs, trim torso, and broad shoulders, and right now all of that is pressed into Bitty’s back with no room between them. The cool air from the Samwell River drifts across the practice field, but right now, Bitty’s as hot as the Georgia sun.

“Want to do another?” Jack asks, his voice practically a purr as his hands drift down Bitty’s arms and back up to his shoulders.

“Only if you have the time,” Bitty says, his voice rough.

“I’ve got all night.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you would like to read a follow-on to this fic that happens pretty soon afterward, the wonderful [tiptoe39](http://archiveofourown.org/users/tiptoe39) wrote a sequel for me called [Good Hands](http://tiptoe39.tumblr.com/post/147793624351/good-hands). Please go read it!


End file.
